Consumer Guide

To keep my bearings, I often review records in bunches, by stylistic
affinity. So I've reached back to 1990 yet again to catch up with
Africa and, er, jazz-rock. Gad--no lyrics to steal jokes from. But
the 1991 picks were undeniable.

STEVE COLEMAN AND FIVE ELEMENTS:
Rhythm People (The Resurrection of Creative Black Civilization)
(Novus)
Jazz specialists are claiming
the just-released Black Science as the one they always had in them,
but from my specialty (whatever that might be), this 1990 item has
the right stuff: almost true fusion, yet I diddybop around to its
secondhand funk. Helps that they trade off like the Lakers on a
fast break. Helps that Coleman plays his alto off. And it really
helps that Cassandra Wilson, called in for two horrendous lyrics
on the new one, is held down to a scat.
A MINUS

CUMBIA CUMBIA
(World Circuit import)
Hits back to the '50s from
Colombia's Disco Fuentes label, with history sweeping consistency
aside--any gringo can tell Conjunto Tipico Vallenato's accordion
side-closers are country and Rodolfo's coffee commercial isn't. But
even if the accordion stuff belongs on a vallenata comp, it passes
muster on a collection where at least half the songs bristle with
the exigente hooks that sell classic pop the world over. And the
unmistakable beat runs down a consummate South American groove,
halfway between Euro clomp and Afro hipshake.
A MINUS

DREAMS COME TRUE
(Antone's)
Wrapping her warm, slinky voice around
lyrics borrowed and dreamed up, Marcia Ball earns top billing in
this ad hoc Austin blues trio. Lou Ann Barton, a professional tramp
who's done her share of rehab, and Angela Strehli, a sensible sort
who runs the label, must have figured it would be neighborly to
help their old pal turn in a decent followup to Soulful Dress, which
is eight years old now. Sure they did--they love each other like
Ike and Tina, whose "A Fool in Love" they covered to initiate this
mission impossible in 1985. Congratulations to coordinator-bassist
Sarah Brown for getting a record out of them, and to producer-pianist
Dr. John for easing it up toward the sum of its parts.
A MINUS

THE FALL:
458489 A Sides
(Beggars Banquet)
Beginning, naturally,
with the least catchy thing on the record (it came first, and who
are they to deny history?), this singles compilation spans the entirety
of Brix Smith's controversial (especially if you're an old friend
of Mark's) tenure with the eternal U.K. art punks. Their drones
don't resolve or climax or even pick up speed, yet though Mark's
said to be a poet, they're not just there for the words, many of
them undecodable--they're there for the drones. Which just hurry
you along on a nagging groove whose intimations of eternity are
in no way undermined by Brix's penchant for deep detail. The only
Fall record any normal person need own.
A MINUS

FREEDOM FIRE--THE INDESTRUCTIBLE BEAT OF SOWETO (VOL. 3)
(Virgin)
Producer Trevor Horn claims the lead cut, featuring Mahlathini and
the gang, is "the finest track ever released on Earthworks." I say
it's high-generic, and five minutes of high-generic at that, damn
near swallowing the shouting spirituality of the two Amaswazi Emvelo
songs right afterwards. But gradually things pick up--Zulu fear of
flying, nasal Shangaan weirdness, three distinct and magnificent
Mahlathini vehicles, modest accordion jive, avant Venda-Pedi instrumental,
modernized marabi, hectoring Sotho shout. Out of many peoples, one
compilation.
A MINUS

HI-JIVIN'
(Kijima import)
It can't be that every group on this sweet
little label sampler has the same rhythm section--certainly not Malombo,
or the mbira-style percussion ensemble Amampondo--but at this remove
it kind of sounds that way. Equally rustic whether the name up top
is Zulu or Sotho, long on squeezebox and masculine stomp, it will
come as a bit of a change to fans who hope there's more to mbaqanga
than Makgona Tsohle. Those who aren't quite sure who Makgona Tsohle
are should find out.
A MINUS

ICE-T:
O.G. Original Gangster
(Sire/Warner Bros.)
Learning and diversifying,
remembering where he comes from and sticking to what he knows, Ice-T
wins big as the old school shakes out. He won't desert the hards
because a hard he remains; his violence is pervasive and graphic
because he knows brutalization from the inside. But he's nothing
if not a moralist, and so the new jack drunk dies in his Benz, the
cops break down the gangbanger's door, his gays are left to live
their own lives, and his prematurely ejaculated sex jam is a dis
on the horny fool who slavers for it. Since most of what I know
about the hard audience comes from rap records, I can't guarantee
he'll get away with it. But I can guarantee that this one has something
to teach everyone who can stand to listen to it and almost everyone
who can't.
A MINUS
[Later: A]

RONALD SHANNON JACKSON:
Taboo
(Venture import)
A departure from
Shannon's overworked small-group format featuring varying horn deployments
and--get this--old hand Vernon Reid. First side's a suite that'll
string you along but good--kind of like Mingus, so to speak. Unfortunately,
the second side doesn't exactly move as one thing--a few times its
things don't even move as one thing.
B PLUS

THE OUSMANE KOUYATE BAND:
Domba
(Mango)
The rockish grandeur of
this Guinean world-music ensemble sounds like it owes Santana. Probably
doesn't, of course--we know where the polyrhythms started, and in
24 years Carlos has never risked a singer who could steal his thunder
like this hereditary troubadour. On the other hand, Carlos can outplay
the troubadour even though the troubadour counts himself a guitarist
by trade. The crux is that most of the time Carlos's corn just sounds
like corn. Kouyate's sounds like the staff of life.
A MINUS

LINDA GAIL LEWIS:
International Affair
(New Rose import)
The long-ago
costar of the lowbrow gem Together registers more twang per syllable
than prime Duane Eddy, belting and screeching like a flat-out
hillbilly--Jeannie
C. Riley, say. But though I'd love to hear her "Harper Valley P.T.A."
(or "Fist City," or "9 to 5"), she's Jerry Lee's sister, wild-ass
before she's anything else. She doesn't ignore country on this band-centered
studio job, but except for Billy Swan's "I Can Help" ("If your child
needs a mama we can discuss that too"), the standouts are from Wolf-Justman,
Dave Edmunds, Bob Dylan, all of whom should be damn proud. Covering
"They Called It Rock," she gets up to "Someone in the newspaper
said it was shit," and instead of rushing discreetly on to the next
line she draws out that last word with the relish of a gal who's
waited to sing it all her life.
A MINUS

MAHLATHINI AND AMASWAZI EMVOLO:
You're Telling Tales
(Shanachie)
Mbqanga maestro West Nkosi long ago commandeered the above-named
male vocal combo to inject Swazi traditions into his basically Zulu
product. They're movers on Mahlathini's definitive Paris-Soweto,
and get numerous leads and writing credits on this robust exercise
as well. The track where their backing resembles barking will frighten
Arsenio.
B PLUS

ZIGGY MARLEY AND THE MELODY MAKERS:
Jahmekya
(Virgin)
Slowly--too
slowly, but faster than we had any right to hope--he's getting smarter:
if "This generation will make the change" doesn't convince, "When
will the innocent stop being punished for their innocence" will
certainly do. And the complex drive of the music, cut this time
in full Tuff Gong regalia, could pass for innovative: a genuine
reggae groove at pop speeds with pop horns. More likely to endure
as a turning point than to pass into half-assed oblivion.
B PLUS
[Later]

TSHALA MUANA:
Soukous Siren
(Shanachie)
A showbiz kid who broke
in as a dancer, she followed a few late-'70s hits from Kinshasa to
Abidjan and then Paris, where she cut her debut album in 1984. Truth
to tell, her voice isn't a lot stronger than Paula Abdul's. But
her music sure is, and though she does consult her arranger, hers
he is--if the songwriting on this best-of doesn't prove her the most
conceptually accomplished woman musician in Africa, it certainly
shows a hell of an ear. Varied and consistent. Catchy and uplifting.
Pretty great.
A MINUS

SONNY SHARROCK:
Highlife
(Enemy import)
As with classic Pharoah
Sanders, Sharrock's devotion to cacophony turns out to be the obverse
of his devotion to tune--his thematic statements are respectfully
stately, his variations more sonic than harmonic. So where Ronald
Shannon Jackson is a jazz composer exploring rock colors (and sometimes
rhythms), Sharrock has the priorities of a genius son of Jimi and
Jimmy. An atmospheric Kate Bush tribute that eventually gains momentum
is as arty as this gorgeously straightforward guitar record gets,
and though no one will mistake the Sanders cover for "Eight Miles
High," it's in the tradition.
A

SPIRIT OF THE EAGLE: ZIMBABWE FRONTLINE (VOL. 2)
(Virgin)
So pleasing
it makes me suspect that a nontourist could hear through conventions
that gather in too tight a circle around chimurenga godfather Thomas
Mapfumo, whose producer also oversaw the quieter Robinson Banda
opener and the more percussive Nyami Nyami Sounds entry, while someone
named A.K. Mapfumo produced the other Banda song as well as two
by old favorites the Four Brothers. And everywhere the ripple of
mbira guitar buoys music whose varied details are mere decoration
for a tourist like me--a tourist who sits grinning foolishly, amazed
yet again that such a wonderful world could thrive independent of
his sustained personal attention.
A MINUS

YO-YO:
Make Way for the Motherlode
(East West)
Loosing Roxanne Shante's
tough talk on Queen Latifah's leadership seminar, Ice Cube's no-shit
sister doubles her chance of teaching "intelligent black women"
how one respects onself. Her most salient theme is an ass she's
not inclined to give up on the first date, and when she succumbs
she lives to regret it at speeds that'll set you on yours. Sir Jinx's
soul-thick, jazz-inflected production suits her gritty drawl and wayward
mouth. And if they should split she'll figure out another way to
get over.
A MINUS